


Jerk

by Mizzy



Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-11
Updated: 2011-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-16 21:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizzy/pseuds/Mizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sophie's boyfriend Jack shows up again, with big news: he wants her back.  Nate could be such a jerk about it...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jerk

Nate can tell the instant that something is different with Sophie. The very second she tries the wrong personality, or tries to hide a lie, he knows it; whether it's in a too-tight inhalation, or a wrong quirk of the head, or in one of those  _tones_  she gets when's lying, or about to lie, or has lied sometime in the last 5 minutes.

She's different now, and it's not some tiny tell that only Nate can sense, it's in her whole body. She's tense and curled inwards on herself and nervous. Her usual brash steps are coltish, like she's getting ready to flee, and Nate hates it. The others can sense it too, which is probably why they're paused, frozen like some weird mass statue. Nate involuntarily flashbacks to telling Sam the story of  _The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe_  - it's like they were that group on the side of the road, enjoying a Christmas dinner and sticking a metaphorical middle finger up to the White Witch, and she turns them mid-bite into stone. None of them can move. It's an odd sensation. Nate thinks if even one of them breathes, they'll all shatter.

Sophie breathes a nervous laugh, and twists her hands, and the spell isn't really broken until she says, words running together, "I just ran into Jack.”

Sophie's rhythm is so off when she says it that Nate almost feels like she's acting, she's playing a part, and she's believing in that part so much that it comes out stuttered; creativity pushing too fast through a too small hole, exploding into unbelievability around them. But that's not it. She's just plain nervous, just two steps  _off_ , and whatever Sophie's real name, this moment is really  _her._

"The boyfriend," Nate says, like he knew it all along, like he's okay with the general concept. Like it doesn't hurt like a sledgehammer to the skull. "The one that broke up with you?"

Alongside him, Eliot tenses, violence bristling into the air. Parker makes a booing sound under her breath. Hardison's sudden burst of thinking is inaudible, but they all know it's happening, because he's not speaking.

"He, uh." She looks up at them, awkward wonder splaying on her face. "He wants me back."

\- - -

Nate's voice is possessed by the devil.

It's the only conclusion he can come up with. The devil makes work for idle hands - that wasn't exactly a bible reading, but it was a saying flung at them in the seminary over and again. Nate's hands were always busy, curling around a glass, or sliding into other people's business, but his mouth had long been silent in moments when it should have made sound (like "I need you" coming a million moments too late) and so he was being punished for it now.

He couldn't think of any other reason why he would have invited Jack in, why he would see an enemy coming a mile away and pull him in for breakfast, put him into position to rip his new family to pieces. And the others  _like_  this guy. Not overwhelmingly, but enough. Jack's contrite, and apologetic, and worships Sophie in his words and body language, in a way Nate's always felt to his bones but been unable to show, too caught up in regret and grief and the sure knowledge that he's not good enough for her, he's too damaged.

He should be just as sure now Sophie has a chance to move on, but he's not. He's damaged but he wants her anyway.

Nate's mouth is occupied by the devil, so he can distance himself enough over eggs and sausage to say a warning, a "you hurt her again and we'll end you" kind of warning, although it mustn't be in exactly those words because everyone stops eating and stares at him.

He stares back. His eyes are his own but he's always been good at keeping a level stare while the world falls apart around him.

"Nate," Sophie says, with an almost musical sound of disappointment in her voice. "Don't be a jerk."

"He was just saying what we were all thinking," Eliot steps in, and Nate should be absurdly grateful for the save, but he's stung by it anyway. Jack, pretty Jack, seems more nervous now it's Eliot giving the sentiment, and that at least shows that Sophie picks them clever.

"See," Nate says, "Eliot doesn't think I'm a jerk. I could have said something like  _Did you sleep with her before dumping her last time?_ , but I didn't, did I?" 

 _"Nate!"_  Sophie's voice is like a slap.

Nate keeps his eyes wide and innocent, like he can get away with anything, but he knows from the flash of hurt on her face he's not getting away with this one. He's not sure he cares. If he loses her---

"He's right," Jack, heroic Jack, tells Sophie, even know he doesn't even know her real name. "He was just looking out for you. I'm glad you have friends who are that protective." And like a real-American hero a smile slides on his face and he looks at Nate. "And for the record, I didn't."

"Well, I guess that makes you a bit of an idiot, because in bed she’s  _amazing_ ," is what he wants to say. They're the right words to say. Nate can be that big of a jerk, a complete cow about it - and it will push Sophie away. It will be the final straw. It would be the right thing to do, to give her a chance to live a normal, happy life, to make her hate him enough to leave and go be with this Jack, this perfect guy. But Nate can't do it, and he hates himself for it.

There's just silence in the space where that comment should be. Nate smiles his best shit-eating grin, gets up, pushes his plate away and, keeping his eyes on Sophie, leans in and whispers something to Jack. Sophie's eyes fly between him and Jack, the hurt still welling up on her face, and Nate still wants to be a jerk. He wants to tell her how obvious she is being.

Jack's eyes move to Nate's as Nate pulls away, a question on his face, but Nate doesn't want to hear it. He salutes mockingly at Sophie before taking his coat and stalking out of there.

She finds him ten minutes later. She knows him too well. He should have put a stop to that years ago. The hurt has gone from her face, to be replaced by an anger he still can't deal with, so he stares at nothing, but as usual she gets in his way.

"You are a jerk."

Nate looks away, and then to her face. She doesn't look quite so angry now she's said that, got it out of her system. He looks away again.

"I know. Is he gone?"

"You knew he would be." He can't hear it, but he knows she has rolled her eyes at it all. "You also knew I'd freak out about what you might have told him."

Nate shrugs in response. He hadn't known. He'd hoped. There was a difference. Hope tasted better in the back of his mouth. It tasted like coffee after two years of nothing but fermented whatever-he-could-get-hold-of. "I only told him he was lucky to have you."

"I know that now," Sophie says, brushing his shoulder with hers. He turns to her then, but she's looking away. "You're going to have to do the clean up, though. Eliot's furious that you slept with me without marrying me first."

"Eliot's what?" Nate says, and then his brain kicks in and backs up. "Eliot  _knows_?"

"In my defence," Sophie says, "there were two things I thought you would have told Jack."

"So you picked that one," Nate says as flatly as he can manage, especially when his heart is sort of thumping over the top of his voice and he's so sure she can hear it. "Not,  _oh, my name is Sophie_  but  _I slept with Mr. Grumpy pants, that's why he's acting so alpha male_."

"More like  _Yes, my name's Sophie. Yes, I had sex with that rude arsehole. You have a problem with that you shouldn't have left when you did, you ass_ ," Sophie admits. She turns to him, eyes narrowed speculatively. "Sophie's not even my real name. I couldn't even tell him that. If I can't even tell you, how could I tell him?"

Nate muffles the smile he wants to make. "How much is Eliot going to kill me?"

"He's going to kill you dead, that's for sure. Maybe even twice." Sophie pulls a wry face, and offers her hand to him. Nate squints at her, then at her hand, and then back at her face. "I promise to stand in the way while he does it."

She holds out her hand. Nate tries not to flashback to San Lorenzo, when she did that for a con. Is she conning him? Or is this the real her? Is her offer of protection a lie? 

"Come here," she whispers, a mirror of a once upon a time kiss.

He doesn't know. He doesn't want to know. Her hand in his is all he wants. He wraps his hand in hers and she pulls him to his feet in one smooth jerk.


End file.
